Sun
by Clio S.S
Summary: When one finds he had been loved all the time, he can decide to come back to life and make a bet with a destiny in order to find his happiness at last...


_the sun is setting  
on the bed of marigolds  
the snake closed his eyes_

Gin Ichimaru was dead.

He died in Kira's arms in the end of the great battle against Aizen. It turned out that he had never been a traitor, but from the very beginning he had acted on Yamamoto-Genryūsai's orders.

Kira didn't remember that moment.

* * *

He kept telling himself he couldn't remember, even if the tried. He didn't try. Soul Society was getting out of the chaos that Aizen Sōsuke had thrown upon it. Kira was occupied enough - spending all his time once more in the unofficial command of the Third Division, or supervising his people on location, or simply participating in their work. There were no differences any more - Eleventh Division or Fourth Division... Everyone was working in the same way to restore Soul Society from ruins. Everyone was happy that those ruins were the only loss they suffered.

When Kira reached his lodgings, he was so tired sometimes he didn't manage to undress, but he was already sleeping. Every morning the work started again. He was very pleased with this.

Last night he had slept rather poorly. The previous day Captain Unohana had paid him a visit and had mentioned about appointing a new captain for the Third Division, as it was clear the old wouldn't come back any more. The more shocking than that had been her idea to recommend his person for this post.

Kira had welcomed her revelations with his typical reserve and had commented only with polite astonishment. Unohana had left, promising to think this matter over, while Kira had continued his work. It had been only in the evening that he had recalled that conversation. Lying in his bed, he had wondered, if he would be up to the duties of the captain, and then he had realized he would. After all, he had been in the command of his division for a long time now, so he hadn't lacked the experience. His bankai, really imperfect though, had supported his candidacy, too. The only problem could be his complete impassivity - but then the captain's post was the greatest honour for a Shinigami in Seireitei, so no-one would pay attention to his lack of enthusiasm. Especially when Kira never showed enthusiasm towards anything. No-one would spot the difference.

The though that he could became the captain of the Third Division evoked no reaction. Since the last battle against Aizen he hadn't felt anything at all.

* * *

It was well in the afternoon when Kira came back to the Third Division headquarters. He had no duties, and he was glad. For the whole day he couldn't focus which he explained himself with poorly slept night. Now he stood in the entrance to the division grounds, wondering what to do next. The hot bath didn't seem a bad idea, at least it would help his muscles relax. He decided to go straight away, before he would change his mind - or simply would fall asleep in his own chair.

He stopped dead when a grey cat jumped out of the window just before him, and ran across the yard towards the trees. Kira's attention, so easily disturbed today, made him look at the direction the visitor came from. And then Kira realized he was standing in front of the captain's apartment.

He had never been inside. For a moment, he just stood there, then he opened the door and entered, thinking about nothing special at all. The floor creaked under his feet, but the place didn't seem particularly abandoned anyway. Kira took a deep breath, trying to sense an atmosphere of this place, but there were only the scent of a warm wood and the ever-present fragrance of the lemon tree. He realized that captain's lodgings were being taken care of, even if captain himself was absent.

Kira walked ahead, passing some doors to other rooms. The apartment wasn't as big as you could imagine for a Gotei 13 captain. But, Kira reflected, Shinigami shouldn't seek for a wealth or a luxury. He looked around - there were as few pieces of furniture and decorations as in his own flat. The last room didn't stand out. Only after a moment Kira realized it was captain's bedroom.

Indifferent and impassive impression it gave. Everyone could live in here - or no-one. There were two paintings with some vague content on the walls. There were a simple desk and an ordinary bed in the corner, and one shelf filled with books and scrolls. The life came only with the sunbeam falling on the window frame. Soft light of the afternoon was filling the room and smoothing its outlines. The warm air was getting inside by an open window and surrounded Kira, too. So it was how captain lived, he thought - and turned to leave.

Something caught his eye, so he stopped to look closer. For a moment he sought for it, he wasn't sure had it been a reflection, a move or an object - and then he approached the bookshelf and frowned.

Before he knew it, he was holding a small book with a black cover, still thinking why it caught his attention. He opened it - and saw a hand-drawn symbol of the Third Division: a sun-like flower of marigold. He was under the impression it was smiling at him. Then he looked over the sketch - and his world shook.

He was holding the book of his own haiku.

Kira could feel like everything around him vanished. The room disappeared because Kira shut his eyes tight and grasped the bookshelf, otherwise he would fall down. He sank to his knees. The bird-singing disappeared, drowned out by the monotonous buzzing in his ears, interrupted by the thumping pulse. The emptiness disappeared, too - the emptiness that had been filling him for so long he started to get used to it. It felt like his heart was pierced with a sword, yet it still struggled and pounded desperately. He couldn't believe this pain would go away. He held his hands close to his chest and curled up on the floor, trying not to fall apart.

He knew one thing: he lost the only person that had ever been important to him.

Gin Ichimaru had been by his side for so long he had filled Kira's whole life. He had been a sun that lit a darkness up and warmed up. After he had left, something had broken in Kira who had felt more incomplete than before. He had been walking the same paths he once had walk along with his Captain. He had been looking at the same sky that once had stretched over heads of them both. He had been listening to the same birds singing on the yard of the Third Division. Everything had faded and had darkened. Kira's world had narrowed to the self-accusations and depression... and, deep in his soul, to an absurd hope that everything would be all right again - for which he had despised himself even more. He had been unable to feel hatred - even though he had been used, even though he had been betrayed, even though he had been left behind. He hadn't considered himself important enough to have a right to hate. He hadn't considered himself a person anyone should care about.

In Gin Ichimaru's bedroom, on the bookshelf, there was - since how long? - a collection of his poems.

Shock was far too great for him to understand that fully. His tormented heart couldn't hold all the emotions and feelings, and start to analyse them. The one feeling that prevailed, though, was despair - and sorrow that everything had happened and couldn't be undone. Gin Ichimaru died in his arms, and now Kira remembered. He remembered his Captain's smile, the look of his bright eyes and his last words. "Thank you, Izuru," he said absolutely calmly, while Kira was too shocked to understand anything.

Until now. That Gin Ichimaru's warmth had been genuine and sincere. That Kira's presence had been significant. That had it been not cruel fate they would have lived normally, talked normally and smiled at themselves normally. There were so many words never spoken - the words that would never be spoken any more. What left, was "thank you"... and, added in a softer voice, _sorry_.

Kira raised his head. The skin of his cheeks was tense and he understood he had been crying. The pain in his chest subsided, his head was still spinning, though. It was a bit darker in the room, sun hid behind the wall surrounding the headquarters, air was still warm after the day. The book, dropped by his numb hands, lay by, spine up. He reached for it and gently straightened folded leaves.

Then he looked inside and began reading the verses - well known, yet so distant now...

So many things had changed in his life since those poems had came into being, he felt like a totally different person now. Gin Ichimaru must have seen him always the same, the real Kira Izuru that had been speaking through his haiku. Kira had never got to know him fully. Only... perhaps it didn't matter, since Gin Ichimaru he had known had managed to fill all his world.

Kira leaved through the book, blinking with swollen eyes, until he reached the last poem.

_those two white eagles.  
separated by the storm.  
they will meet again._

Below, with a slanting hand, there was a comment: "So I believe".

Kira closed his eyes and rested his head against the shelf. He sat in an absolute silence filled only with sweet singing of the evening birds. He felt the calmness filling him - not empty and lifeless any more, but full of acceptance and hope. Hope was the only cure for despair - he knew from a life-long experience. Time didn't really matter. It was almost dark when Kira decided he was strong enough to head into the sun again.

He stood up and left, closing the door behind.

Shinigami's souls are immortal.

_They will meet again._

And this time everything will be as it should.


End file.
